Friends and Lovers
by funk-tastic
Summary: A collection of drabbles from my tumblr, mostly focused on Mirsan and Inukag. Multiple themes and ratings (k-m) and absolutely no direction whatsoever!
1. stranger anxiety (inukag, k)

Hello everybody! Welcome to my collection of cliched inuyasha drabbles! Since these are basically all crossposted from my tumblr, there's not really any kind of chronological order/rhyme or reason. It's very messy and unorganized, which I'm starting to realize -with some amount of disappointment- is just my way of doing things.

title: stranger anxiety  
prompt: based on this excellent art by tumblr user shinjisbakabutt: shinjisbakabutt .tumblr post / 126934781362 / idk-how-many-of-you-remember-this-post-i-made (remove those spaces, kids!)  
rating: k  
warnings: none except for sad babies

* * *

The baby was screaming.

The baby screamed a lot, so this wasn't exactly some kind of exciting new development or anything. In fact, where Inuyasha was concerned, all the baby had done for the entire first few months of its life was scream. And eat. And… well, yes, babies weren't exactly complicated creatures.

But now the little guy had grown and gotten to the stage where he was having something that Kagome referred to as 'stranger anxiety' –when he was littler, he didn't care who was holding him, so long as his needs got met. But now he had preferences. If it wasn't mama or daddy or maybe Sango or Miroku, there would be a fuss and the fuss would not end until he was returned to his rightful spot.

Inuyasha didn't care that much at first, because it wasn't too hard to wrap him up in the sling and keep him strapped to his front while he worked or did chores. The baby didn't complain. He just stared up at his dad, flicked his velvety, little black ears and moved those chubby, jerky baby limbs at random. It eventually became so comfortable to be with the little guy that Inuyasha was even lulled into a false sense of security – yeah, being a father was rewarding! His baby loved him! It was worth the weird smells and exhaustion!

Then the new moon rolled around.

He saw the strange, black haired man and just let out a sustained, terrified scream. He clung to Kagome's haori, big fat tears falling from his eyes as Inuyasha tried to reason with him.

"It's me!" he pleaded, which only made things worse. The baby looked utterly betrayed.

"Sweetheart, that's daddy," Kagome said soothingly, patting the fluffy black head. He sniffled and stared up at her for reassurance, but calmed very little.

"Uhg, okay," Inuyasha conceded. He looked around for a moment, for something (anything!) to help placate his son, when his eyes landed on a neglected drying cloth. White! He grabbed for it and threw it over his head.

Kagome blanched.

"What…"

"See! It's me!" The baby stilled completely, contemplating. His watery eyes regarded the weirdo with the towel on his head.

"I have ears, too," he added, sticking his hands up on top of his head. The child made a strange face; Inuyasha stuck his tongue out. Apparently that did the trick. The tiny boy laughed joyously and finally relinquished his death grip on his mother.

o0o

"I can't believe that worked," Kagome finally sighed once the child was asleep.

"Babies are kind of stupid."

" _Inuyasha_!"

"Hm, well, doesn't matter how I got him to stop. It worked," he said proudly, back straightening and a smug grin stretching across his face.

Kagome just smiled at him fondly, towel still on his head and all.

* * *

Ah, domestic inukag. The love of my life.


	2. choke (inukag, m)

So this went from 0 to 60 _real_ fast.

title: choke  
prompt: rough sex  
rating: m. _very_ m.  
warnings: sexual choking/pain

* * *

If love were a simple thing, then one would be content to take it as it came and never ask for more. It would be easy and innocent at all times, never hard or rough or frightening, but love is no simple thing. Sometimes the things you want are not the things you know you should want.

She does not believe herself when her mind whispers darkly "let him have you, let him hurt you" because she thinks they are above that, somehow. Haven't they had enough pain without inflicting it upon each other knowingly? But it persists, and when he slips inside her on a night like any other, it just comes out:

"Please, Inuyasha, _fuck_ me."

There is not enough implication in her voice for him to catch her meaning, because he laughs lowly into her ear and tells her that's what he's doing. _No,_ that naughty voice is saying, _not like I want you to._ Kagome is nothing if not honest, but this is difficult to say and she almost leaves it alone. She grounds herself, digging her heels into the bedding, looking for an answer so that she won't have to say anything more. She looks for some edge of pain to satisfy this increasing (and increasingly distressing) urge of hers. It's _there,_ somewhere, maybe all over. His claws are a little too tight on her thighs, something about this angle -where she is sitting in his lap- pushes him a little too deep and makes her ache, his breath is hard and hot in her ear, she stretches for him, around him, but it's just not enough and so she grasps at his back, steels herself, and _scratches_.

He makes an odd noise like a yowl, but it's not unpleasant. Kagome feels rewarded, even when his eyes snap to hers as if to ask her _have you lost your mind_? There's almost a hint of something that appears to be passion and anger mixed; a normal concoction for him but in this context it's more thrilling than ever.

"I need you," she gets out, between heavy pants, "to _fuck me_."

He looks bewildered for half a second and then asks "Hard, then?"

She nods.

The dam bursts, in a way. She's always known that he was very strong and very agile, but he'd also been reserved and cautious when they did this. The breath is knocked clear out of her lungs as he pushes her to the floor beneath them, his movements so forceful and sudden that she is lightheaded. It's good, it feels blissful, she moans for him. He puts his hand over her wrists, keeping them above her head but also inadvertently tugging her long hair in the process. She would moan for that, too, but his tongue is already in her mouth and she wants to smile. His hips are crushing into hers, and she wonders if she'll have bruises in the morning, but it doesn't matter. The pain feels so good.

The only issue is that she feels like she needs to touch herself, because while this is lovely, she can't quite get off from this alone. She struggles a little against his hand but he tightens it, glaring at her nearly predatorily. A spike of heat hits her sex and abdomen and makes her arch.

"More," she hisses, voice sweet, laced with want. He nods and shoves his other hand into the nest of curls between her legs. His fingers hit her clit, and she shrieks.

"Quiet," he growls (and it's a _real_ one, she thinks) "the whole village will hear you."

"Let them," she laughs breathlessly, "they already know that I'm yours."

Inuyasha sighs, like he's lost an argument not just with her but with himself. She can tell because he shrugs, mutters _if you want it like this_ , and then. Then.

He destroys her, like she wants him to. He leaves marks all over her throat and squeezes at her flesh and he's going way too fast and she likes it, against all better judgment, she likes that he's stronger than her for the moment. She whines and little cries rip from her throat as he moves around her, inside her, touching everywhere and leaving absolutely nothing sacred. This is what it meant to be defiled, but if it's by someone she loves? There's no more doubt left in her mind that this _wrong thing_ is actually, perhaps, right.

They're both getting near the end, the glorious finale, when his free hand –the one not rubbing hard circles over her wet flesh- reaches and closes around the column of her neck. She gasps, eyes opening and meeting his. They seem to realize what this means, the moment is one filled with a silent _oh kami, what are we doing to each other,_ but then his hand tightens its grip and he gives one last little snap of his pelvis and she sobs. Her body releases what feels like years worth of tension into this climax, and it feels like it won't ever end. Her eyes have rolled back into her head. Her hearing is muffled from its intensity. She doesn't even hear him do the same thing that she has done, crying her name as he breaks apart into pieces above her.

When the pounding of head and heart and sex has finally subsided to a dull but pleasant throb, she is wracked by a feeling of unprecedented guilt. How could she? How could she ask him to practically maim her, even if it was for her own enjoyment? But she sees his face, when he moves to look at her, body still heavy over hers.

He is sated.

He grins.

In the morning, it dawns on her, their dynamic will be the same, mostly equal and fair and all the things a good relationship ought to be. No one has to know that they don't always do the things they should.


	3. heaven on earth (mirsan, m)

title: heaven on earth  
rating: m  
warnings: none

* * *

Without a doubt, Miroku's favorite place to be is between Sango's thighs.

And he means it! Most men wouldn't disagree with that sentiment; between a gorgeous woman's legs is a wonderful place to be, but it's more to him than that. It's not just any woman, and it's not just any set of legs - it's hers, and nothing makes him happier than the feeling of having them resting on his shoulders, warm, sweat soaked skin clamping down around his head.

She could probably crush him, if she was trying hard enough. He likes that thought even more, for some reason.

No, absolutely nothing is better than eating her out soundly and feeling strong muscles quivering under his fingers, her moans and gasps muffled by her own hand. She allows him more concessions than he really deserves, in these situations, letting him taste her sex until he's satisfied. They're not even _married_. He promises that when they are, he'll gladly have her for all three daily meals and never complain.

She always blushes at that, swatting his arm and hissing 'letch' under her breath. But he knows she likes it, too, because she squirms and fists her hand in his hair to pull him closer, to beg him not to stop. For all his searching, this is nirvana. For all his prior wandering, this is _home._

Her climax is always the most delicious part; her voice cracking, her beautiful dark eyes squeezed shut, her sex clenching in its fluttery, glorious way around however many fingers he's managed to press inside of her. And when she's done, she simply whispers his name -not his title- in that intimate little way of hers, and he looks up to see her blushing and undone and so unearthly beautiful but at the same time so blessedly _human._

He's the luckiest man alive.


	4. love and other drugs (mirsan, k)

title: love and other drugs  
prompt: miroku realizes that he's in love with sango  
rating: k+  
warnings: none

* * *

It does not happen all at once. It's not a great revelation with pomp and ceremony, or any of his typical flamboyance, because she is _Sango_ and she does not need embellishment. He doesn't even know how to differentiate respect and affection for her, at first, because they seem to go side by side.

But lying in the curves of her face, in the whisper of her throaty voice, in the depths of her eyes –darkest, warmest of brown- he is taken in slowly and his want for her approval grows and eclipses his other desires.

That, he reckons, is how he can tell that he loves her.


	5. two for the price of one (mirsan, k)

title: two for the price of one  
prompt: how miroku felt during the birth of his first children  
rating: k  
warnings: none

* * *

Nothing seems to scare her. She faces every new day with exuberance and passion, as always, and that's how she is when the labor starts. It's not as though she's upbeat, exactly, but _determined_ , and Kaede encourages her as she breathes through the pain.

While she is calm, he is a tsunami, wringing his hands in his robes until the fabric is wrinkled and soft from sweat. He believes in her but what if? Childbirth was hard on even the physically fit and stoutest of women, what if something went wrong with her or the baby or…

A baby screamed its arrival, and he was bliss. A second one screamed moments later, and he nearly collapsed.


	6. fidget (mirsan, k)

title: fidget  
prompt: sango tells miroku she's... expecting  
rating: k+  
warnings: none

* * *

Her heart was up in her throat, fingers fiddling with the sleeve hem of her kosode, waiting for the right moment to tell him. She hadn't found out until that very morning, and only because Shippo had let something slip about her smelling funny. Inuyasha had grimaced at that, and then chastised the little kitsune: "You gotta let them figure it out on their own!" Sango wondered when he'd gotten so tactful.

But that was beside the point. She tapped her fingers lightly against her chin as he finished up his dinner. She couldn't eat. She was thrilled. He was calm; he had no clue.

"Sango, love, you're fidgeting."

She squeaked, blushed, stammered, she supposed she should have at least let him set down his bowl before she said something-

"I'm pregnant!"

The bowl of rice clattered to the floor and his arms were flung about her shoulders in record time. He alternated kisses to her forehead, lips, cheeks, neck, when she heard him cry "I knew it!" with an air of triumph and ill concealed pride.

"Wha-"

"You're never this flustered, unless it's some big news, or unless we're about to… but, never mind that. Ah! Pregnant!"

She smiled, nerves long gone, and kissed him soundly, then and for the rest of the evening.


	7. scars (mirsan, t)

title: scars  
prompt: Sango kissing and trailing her fingers over Miroku's Shoki scars and him doing the same with the scar on her back  
rating: t (not _quite_ mature enough to warrant an m, but still pretty sensual)  
warnings: none

* * *

His fingers are light on her skin, so gentle she forgets everything in that moment. One, eased along by the sweat on her skin, trails up her spine and is then joined by the rest of his hand, over the scar on her back. What used to be pain is now nothing but pleasure, heavy, erotic, but also tender. Heat blossoms in her body and opens her further for him, drawing him closer.

Her mouth finds his shoulder and returns all that he has given to her, an equal coupling, the intensity of their sex lying in wait beneath the surface but not pressing or urgent. There are scars on him, too, scars he had taken for her sake –she was laced with guilt for those scars, but can't convince him to feel remorse. And so as penance, she draws her tongue over his skin, feels him shudder beneath her and gasp sharply into her ear.

Once they had been sorrowful creatures; tonight they exist as moans and cries and breaths that whisper _I love you._


	8. a better man (mirsan, t)

title: a better man  
prompt: A sudden moment of unexpected anxiety because Miroku is actually going to be a father, its real. It's actually happening, finally. Finally, a year ago he was ready to die away from the amazing woman carrying his children but now, NOW its happening  
rating: t  
warnings: a liiiiitle angsty

* * *

When the initial joy calms down and life returns to its routine, he is struck with fear. His children had always been an abstract concept, a future but not a present, conditional and not growing in his wife's womb the way they were right now. He saw her swell and change before his very eyes, and watched time tick away.

He was struck with fear, yes, but it was inadequacy that ate him alive in the night. He was not an honorable man. He was –to put it bluntly- kind of a piece of shit. Miroku had never hated himself before, but now it was like an infection, spreading and poisoning his disposition.

It was worsened when one day, she beckoned him to feel the tiny kicks, the movements that made it even more real. This was Sango, _his_ Sango, carrying _his_ child, and she was expecting the best from him. She deserved so much; she deserved the world, why had she settled for a man like him when she'd had princes falling for her? But she smiled at his wide, wondering eyes, and his doubt was chased away. Not permanently, perhaps, but it would be a reminder.

He must never let anything destroy this life. He must never let himself slip into old habits. He must fill his head (somehow) even fuller with thoughts of her, and thoughts of her love. Where the child grew –children, though they weren't to know it yet- a need grew with it.

He would rise to meet it.

* * *

I have a lot of feelings about Miroku as a character.


	9. the first time around (inukag, t)

title: the first time around  
rating: t  
warnings: infant loss, death, plenty of sadness

* * *

When it happened, she was far enough along that she actually went into labor. _Real_ labor, with all the pain that came with it; except there was no hope to push her through, no promise at the end of this journey. It was too soon. It was just way too soon, even for most people back in her world, with their advanced medical technology and life saving knowledge.

She didn't scream or moan, just shut her eyes and grit her teeth together. Tears leaked out at the corners. He wished that she _would_ scream, because then maybe this wouldn't feel quite as horrible, quite as wrong. Everyone tried to make him leave her side and he wouldn't do it.

After a half a day of this, it finally ended. He obstinately wouldn't look. Kagome was quietly weeping next to him, holding the little bundle to her chest, but he wouldn't look at it. He was afraid of what he might see; something only half formed, or something disfigured.

But finally, when he couldn't stand to hear her cry anymore, Inuyasha turned to her. His heart dropped to his stomach and he sagged.

It wasn't half formed. It wasn't disfigured. It was… it was tiny, though, far too small to survive outside of the womb. She'd been pregnant for about twenty eight weeks (he only knew because she counted them all, excitedly tracking her progress). It wasn't chubby and squalling like babies were supposed to be, but thin and chillingly, horrifically silent. Its slender fingers were tipped in tiny claws.

He clamped a hand over his mouth to stop the sob from ripping out of his throat, because it was too much. He'd seen gruesome, terrible things in his life, but this was worse than all of those -not because it was disgusting, but because it was painful. In every line of his dead child's face he saw the potential it might have had; her smile, his eyes, her kindness, his temper. None of those things could ever be true, now, and he shut his eyes to it, trying to will it out of his head. Kagome had stopped making any noise at all, but he smelled concern on her, poking through the rolling waves of sadness and pain.

"This happens all the time," she finally said, her voice weirdly detached.

o0o

It was given a burial. It had been born, after all, and so it deserved to die with some dignity. Kaede blessed the little grave mound, sympathy in her old eyes as she did. It dawned on Kagome that this was probably common for her, and yet it never lost its sting.

Sango was especially kind. She listened to her friend, even as she cursed the gods and sobbed and then finally cursed herself. She knew. She understood. Nobody talked about these things. Nobody wanted to face it. But Sango knew, because she'd lost children of her own -even if they'd never been _born_ , it still hurt.

So she just held Kagome, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead through the worst of her grief -because she knew it, too.

o0o

Things were pretty difficult for a few months, which was to be expected. What felt the worst, though, was how quickly everyone else seemed to move on with their lives. _Oh,_ they said at the beginning, _the miko and the hanyou lost their child_ , but it was old news after a few days.

Kagome didn't stop thinking about it. Inuyasha didn't stop thinking about it.

One night she slipped into the bedding next to him, her breath hard and fast, and she tried to make him face her for what felt like the first time in months. He turned his head when she beckoned, but he wouldn't kiss her at all. It was like he wanted to be anywhere else but lying with her, and she finally got fed up and turned away. The salt of her tears and the bitter scent of anger hit him full force.

"I'm sorry I failed you," she finally said, after almost an hour of silence. It was soft, and he considered that maybe she thought he was sleeping. She took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry I failed both of you. Maybe I can't be a wife. Maybe I can't be a mother. Maybe it's a sign."

That didn't sit well in him at all. How could she blame herself? She'd wanted the baby just as badly as he had. And she'd been a better wife than he thought he'd ever have. He didn't understand.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he whispered, turning so that he could pull her against his chest, feeling her little form curl in his. Her back stiffened at first, and then relaxed.

"Everyone says that," she sighed, running her fingers over the arms he'd wrapped around her waist. "But… I should have known better, right? I should have known something was wrong. I know it's common in this time, but where I'm from…"

"It doesn't happen?"

"No," she said, and there was a little laughter in her voice, "it does. It just… only happens to _other people."_

"Oh," he replied, and he understood.

She gave a pathetic, broken little whimper.

"Why did it have to be _us?"_

o0o

Almost a year later, they still thought about it. It was slowly becoming a normal part of life -wake up, think about the baby. Eat, think about the baby. Do chores, exterminate demons, think about the baby. It didn't feel quite as raw anymore -it still hurt, but it was bearable.

And a few months after the one year mark had passed, Inuyasha told her that she smelled pregnant. She laughed first, then cried, but she didn't feel as scared or sad as she thought she might. She actually felt a little hopeful.

Kagome counted the weeks again, like she had before. Inuyasha was restless, like he always was, but he kept his temper in check, terrified he might cause her unnecessary stress. Other villagers found out that she was pregnant and wished her well. Between them all, there was this unspoken understanding: you are afraid you'll lose this one too. If you do, you will never try again. It would be too much. It would be too dangerous.

But twenty eight weeks came and went without anything eventful happening. Soon it was thirty five weeks, then thirty nine weeks, then she counted down the days and waited, scared but ready. If her husband had been restless before, he was unbearable now; he'd probably cut enough firewood to last the whole village two long winters, and had scared off more small youkai in those few short days than he had in the last _year_. Finally, the labor started.

It was… quick. It was a few short, painful hours. He sat next to her, once again ignoring Kaede's insistence that he would only get in the way. He held his wife's hand and smiled, even when she screamed at him for knocking her up ( _this hurts, you asshole, this is all your fault_ ) because this was how it should have been the first time around. And at the end of this labor, there was a beat of stillness, and then a shriek, an angry, red faced baby announcing its contempt for the cold, cruel world it had been shoved out into.

Things proceeded from there like they were supposed to, everything blessedly tiring and normal. Kagome was exhausted and sweating, but she was happy and that was the important part. Inuyasha was happy too. He tried not to let her see that he was getting misty eyes over the whole thing, lest she tease him. She _did_ see. She only smiled at him.

The next few months were spent trying to learn how to be parents, even though they'd been parents before. They held their second child in their arms, their first in their memories, and both in their hearts.

And life went on.

* * *

I'm a bad person for writing this, probably.


	10. sake and rain (mirsan, t)

title: sake and rain  
prompt: mirsan, sake and rain. like it says on the tin.  
rating: t  
warnings: none

* * *

It had not stopped raining for three days straight. Such was the season; with any luck it would let up soon. The fields were flooded, people were drenched night and day, and the fear was that sickness would follow shortly. Even inside of people's homes, the dampness permeated everything it could touch.

Sango was tired of it. Miroku was tired of it. They were bored.

There was simply nothing that could be done. They certainly couldn't travel in this weather, and there wasn't even any hope of sparring or getting chores done; except for cleaning the house -which, after three days, was _spotless_ \- it looked to be pretty much hopeless. The firewood was getting low, which meant that someone would have to brave the torrent and somehow get it all back dry.

"You do it," Sango said, poking at the embers.

"I did it last time!"

She huffed and stood up, flashing a glare at him before trudging outside. He could hear her muttering under her breath about her lazy, useless husband all the way to the woodpile. He could only manage a little grin in response to her complaining. Yes, they were both bored, but also _irritated,_ and nothing quenched could quench his thirst for a little excitement like a good old fashioned lover's spat. He decided right then that he would pursue it.

Sango returned, arms full of (mostly) dry wood, her hair and yukata absolutely drenched in rainwater. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, but that only made him want to tease more out of her. She could certainly be frightening, but not now, not when she looked like a wet cat.

"I'll start the fire," he said, standing and stretching his arms above his. "My love, you can't possibly be comfortable in those clothes. You should change them."

"If you sent me out into this… this _tsunami_ just to get me out of my clothes, you can forget about it."

"I'm only worried about your health, dearest."

"You are so full of shit. If you were so worried you should have just gotten it yourself."

He frowned at her, not liking where the conversation was headed -i.e., away from his playful attempts to get her good and angry so that they could fight and subsequently _make up_. But he really hadn't sent her out just to get her to take her clothes off. No, it was also because he didn't feel like leaving the house.

Miroku knew he was an awful human being. He goaded her further.

"You would stay so uncomfortable just to spite me?"

"Yes."

"That's foolish, you really _will_ get sick." He was just a little concerned. Only a little.

"I don't care," she said, petulantly.

"Fine, Sango, I won't fight with you over this," Miroku finally sighed. "But I'm getting the sake, because drinking seems to be the only thing to do in this house and it _might_ warm you up. Even if you refuse to get changed."

"Good, now you're going to get me drunk, too."

"Only if you actually drink what I pour for you. Nobody is going to force you."

He returned from the little storeroom in the back of the house with a full jug of the rice wine, and poured a little into a cup for her. She turned up her nose at it. He drank his in silence. It was boring.

"…This is so tiring," she finally said. "Why is that whenever we have nothing to do, we end up _more_ exhausted?"

"Because, dearest, usually we're… well. You remember the last time we were stuck inside together during a storm, don't you?"

She flushed bright red, and picked up the little cup. He half expected to get a face-full of the liquid, but she downed it instead. Finally, she stood up, crossing over to stand in front of him where he knelt, and then he saw her tug at her obi and shrug the wet yukata to the ground. She stood naked -not blushing prettily or making coy eyes at him, but frowning with the air of someone who was _definitely_ going to kick his ass in the best possible way.

"Houshi-sama," she said slowly, her voice caressing the words, watching his eyes run the length of her body and catch on all the luscious curves and pink skin.

"Yes?" he breathed, his hand hovering mere inches from the soft flesh of her thighs.

"Go get me some dry clothes. Now."

He slumped in defeat. It was going to be another boring, wet night stuck inside. At least the sake might keep him company.


	11. bit of a hypocrite (mirsan, t)

title: bit of a hypocrite  
prompt: miroku can't stand it whenever someone else flirts with sango  
rating: t  
warnings: none

* * *

He shouldn't have been surprised, really.

Marriage agreed with Sango -she was light as a feather and yet more substantial than ever, cool and clean in the daytime and like a live fire at night. Miroku couldn't believe it at first, but marriage also seemed to agree with _him_ ; because everything she touched in his life turned to treasure. Well, that and her gloriously tight butt, but kami help him if he talked about it too much. She would not appreciate it.

But, yes. Two months after they'd vowed themselves to each other, and she was somehow even lovelier than before. Her eyes were bright and her lips dewy and soft and always smiling, and…

He kept getting distracted. That was the intensity of her pull on him -stronger than any woman he'd ever known, and he'd known some impressive woman- he couldn't stop thinking about her, he dreamt of her touch every moment she was apart from him, he bedded her at every available opportunity (no shock there) and to his amazement and _certainly_ to his pleasure, she was an eager and _very_ active participant. Scant weeks after they'd been married, and she was already in the early stages of her first pregnancy.

It made her even more attractive. He couldn't stop himself! In the morning he wanted her, in the middle of the afternoon, even more at night; he was inexhaustible in his desires. His fortune was incredible -marriage agreed with her, and pregnancy too, because she wanted him more for it too.

So he shouldn't have been surprised that in all his wanting of her, other men might want her too.

Sango was being flirted with; in the middle of the village, near the fields -on her way from Kaede's- when he got tired of waiting for her to return (back into his arms, he hoped) and went to retrieve her himself. And three men, all youngish, all handsome, had bracketed her and were talking her ear off. Yes, Miroku recognized their intentions immediately, having spent more than his fair share of time dealing out flattery and charming smiles.

Damn them, though.

"…and you're so strong! A woman with such strength is hard to come by," one of them was saying, when the other chimed in a little lasciviously:

"I'll bet you could take any of us."

"I don't need to take _anyone_ to prove it," she said, confidently. "I do need to get home, though, and you young men should return to your work before the sun finishes setting."

"Oh, but _Sango…_ "

"Yes, Sango. Why don't you come home."

She whirled at the sound of her husband's voice, blushing. If he sounded irate, it was because he _was._

"Houshi-sama! Shall we?"

The men looked him over, disparaging.

"She goes home with a monk!" one finally said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Our luck that the most beautiful woman in the village is with a _monk_!"

He couldn't help it; Miroku grinned in a way that would make his hanyou friend proud.

"She is," he said in an overly exaggerated and courteous tone, "and she's pregnant with my child too. Isn't that nice? My woman is absolutely incomparable."

" _Houshi-sama,"_ she hissed, swatting his arm. But her eyes sparkled. She very much liked it when he said things like that, called her his and got a little bit jealous. It was the only fair retribution for her suffering in the earliest days of their relationship.

"Yes, Sango?" he teased lightly as they started on the path back to their home.

"I'll show you later how incomparable I am," she told him, in her sultriest voice. "I certainly hope that you're up to it."

"Always," he laughed, pulling her closer into him by her waist.

No, he couldn't say he was surprised at all.


End file.
